Witch Season: Book 1

Chapter 2

Brick Corners was a town of tinkers, inventors, and looney scientists. If progress wasn't in your blood than you probably lived elsewhere. If you didn't fit the bill, however, that was okay too. That meant you worked the service industry. And Brick Corners offered many of those, from brick laying to brick burning, from food stops to watering holes to coal pits. There were plenty of services needed to sustain the ever bustling, growing, and occasionally exploding town of Brick Corners.

Tonight all town's residents, tinkers, workers, and scientists alike were asleep. All but one. It was well past midnight. The Postoffice was filled with snores of a pup. Wendy added some coals to her portable teapot and patiently waited for it to boil. She had already sorted throught most of the mail, few letters remained.

Wendy's socks hung near the sorting engine, hoping that they'll dry up by sunrise. They really loathed getting wet. The engine wheezed out hot steam as it disposed of incoming parcels and envelopes. Crinck, cranck, blop. Five letters dropped onto Wendy's work desk. First three letters were addressed to Marge Peeve. Wendy didn't need to look up her address in the registry. Marge was the Post's most frequent client. She had fifteen grandchildren living all across the land, and at least one of them would write to her once a week. This usually amounted to at least one letter a day. Very nice kids, and very considerate too. Not that they had much of a choice.

When Wendy just started working at the post she misplaced one of the letters addressed to Marge Peeve by a complete accident, sending them to a Margaret Peave. Granny Marge and her portable chair rolled in the post office head quarters that very same evening, demanding an explanation as to where was her delivery snail exactly. After a glance at the records and some yelling, it was discovered that Wendy not only forwarded the letter to the wrong person but she also shipped the snail with it too. Since this day onward, Margaret Peave became first in history snail pet owner, while Marge Peeve became privy to special service of hand delivered mail by Wendy herself. Everyone else had to pick up their own mail at the post, no exceptions. "Bring snail messenger back. Receive your mail. No exceptions whatsoever", read post office's policy disclaimer. And so as policy disclaimers generally went, there were always exceptions when difficult clients persisted and screamed.

Three letters went straight into Wendy's purse. She'd drop them off to Marge Peeve on her way home. Two letters left. One was addressed to Swiggly Swiggly, a result of pretty bad handwriting. Wendy sighed and walked upstairs to pick up "Cursive, children, and doctors. Ones guide to understanding." A great tome and irreplaceable item in her profession. She referred to it so often that she almost memorized it whole. However, this penmanship needed extra help.

One hour, two cups of tea, and one giant magnified glass later she solved this mystery. Wendy stamped on "delivered with haste" and dropped off the letter addressed to Maestro My Love into snail notice box. The last letter remained. About the size of child's palm, it was a black velvet envelope. And everyone knew that when black velvet was involved, witches were involved. Wendy's eyes widened. She took a pin off her hair and pierced it under the letter's tongue. Carefully cutting it open. Usually, she didn't bother and tore any wrapping to shreds. Black velvet, rare as gooseberry geese, was no ordinary encasing and had to be treated with a respect that it deserved.

Juicy woke up from slumber, awakened by the sound of a falling chair. He rushed with his tiny feet, speeding down the stairs and turning a corner. He had to find out what happened. Strange picture unfolded in front of pug's nose. His owner Wendy was flat of her back and chair, giggling and laughing, as she held something small and white in her fingers grip. It appeared to be a small note. Wendy looked at Juicy, wide grin on her face.

Pug looked to the floorboards for help, he had a feeling that his owner's maniacal smile would lead to nothing good. Wendy waved a note, now clenched in her first, rather rigorously and exclaimed, "I will be a witch! I will finally be a real witch!". Juicy replied with a "Woof! Woof!". Oh boy, was he ever right in his suspicion. This was definitely bad news. Juicy didn't share his owners' excitement as he dreaded for his fate and curly tail. Also, he had no desire of being referred to as a familiar.

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Authors' Notes

Thanks for reading this Chapter!

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